CHAPTER IX

To the young man who watched her hasty retreat she seemed a lovely thing. He noted the delicate profile of her face, the profile with which he had grown familiar in the Academy of Music, watching it to the accompaniment of the world’s great music exquisitely rendered. Somehow she seemed to him to be naturally associated with all things fine and exquisite and lovely. He noticed, too, with kindling eye, the color of her plain little gown, deep crimson, like the shadows in old-fashioned damask roses, and how it brough…